Sherlock and Watson Jokes
by superherosareawesome
Summary: Detective Inspector Lestrade was baffled. They were in the middle of a case about a serial killer and their new clue was...a picture. A picture! What that had to do with anything, he did not know, but he was assured it did. So, he did the only thing he could think of-he called the one person he knew who might know what the picture had to do with anything. Sherlock Holmes.
1. The Unusual Painting

***Disclaimer****: I do not own Sherlock! If I did I would be freaking awesome!**

**A/N:** Sorry about OOCness Sherlock is a hard character to do.

**Chapter 1- The unusual painting**

Detective Inspector Lestrade was baffled. He was beyond confused. They were in the middle of a case about a serial killer and their new clue was...a picture. A picture! What that had to do with anything, he did not know, but he was assured it did. So, he did the only thing he could think of-he called the one person he knew who might know what the picture had to do with anything.

"Show me the painting." Sherlock ordered. The curtain was removed, revealing the picture beneath. It was of a tall oak tree in the middle of a barren wasteland. It was not particularly special in anyway, but on second glance one could see that the trunk was a mass of burning twisting flames, the branches were made of sharp frozen ice, the living leaves resembled fluffy clouds, and the dying leaves were the rich soil of the earth.

"What is it, Holmes?" asked Watson in awe.

"It's an Element tree, my dear Watson," Sherlock replied. He glanced at it for a few moments longer and then turned to Lestrade, "It is irrelevant, throw it out."

"What? but-"

"Throw it out. Better yet, give it to Watson. He seems to have a fascination with trees." So Lestrade was no longer confused and Watson had a new painting of a tree. For several weeks after, Watson kept receiving gifts of trees from different acquaintances.

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**A/N:** There will be a second chapter about same killer. Sorry it's so short. Please review! If you do I'll...hmmmm...put a new picture on my wall. hahahah : P Also I edited this there wasn't much except for commas and periods but chapter 2 and three have some new stuff not much but a little rewording and i bit more to a scene I hope you enjoy.


	2. Chapter 2-Sherlock and Watson ride in a

Chapter 2-Sherlock and Watson ride in a hot air ballon.

"So why are we here?"

"The Element tree. Did you not notice? Of course you didn't. There was sand ingrained in the paint and the artists name was sighed at the bottom. I looked it up and he lives in the desert-hence why we are here."

"But why a hot air balloon?"

"Because they are fun of course." Sherlock replied looking at Watson like he was a moron.

"Where are we?"

Sherlock glanced to his left, looking for any landmarks, then turned quickly to the right, before spinning to check behind. "It seems I have no idea," was his reply.

"Bloody hell."

"Do not worry. I am sure we will find a landmark soon. I mean we are talking about me."

"Of course we will." Watson said completely unbelieving.

Ten minutes later, no landmarks had been spotted. They still floated along with nothing but empty sand beneath them. After many minutes of searching, Sherlock spotted a black dot in the distance.

"Watson, look."

"Hmm..there seems to be a dot in the distance."

"Impressive observation skills."

"Are you being sarcastic?" Watson asked shocked. Sherlock didn't reply, just redirected their balloon towards the mysterious dot. As they got closer, a short burst of wind buffeted them. The dot began to take shape. It was obviously human. In a moment the details became clearer, and they could make out the suit and tie he wore. He trudge along through the sand, not noticing them floating above.

Sherlock shouted, "Sir, could you tell me where we are?"

The man looked up, shielding his eyes from the bright sun and pondered the question for a moment, "Gentlemen, you are in a hot-air balloon!"

Just then a swift wind blew and carried their balloon away, before they could reply.

"Well, way to state the obvious." Watson grumbled.

"Watson do you know who that man is?" Sherlock asked, turning to Watson.

"No, Holmes, of course not!" He replied exasperated.

"He's a mathematician!"

"Amazing, but how could you know?"

"It's very simple, Watson. First of all, the man thought before giving us an answer. Secondly, his answer was absolutely correct. And thirdly, the answer he gave us was of no practical use, whatsoever!"

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**A/N:** hahah no offense mean tot mathematicians based off a joke. If you review I'll apologize to a mathematician.


	3. Chapter 3-The Bloody Rock

**Chapter 3-The Bloody Rock**

Sherlock and Watson finally arrived at their destination-four days off schedule! The mathematician had been no help in finding their way. Not until their second day of floating along were they able to spot a landmark and only then were they able to find their way.

"So this is where he lives?" Watson said.

"Yes. Why do you need to state the obvious? Didn't you just make fun of that mathematician for doing the same thing? I mean, why would I go here if it wasn't his house?" Sherlock questioned, glancing at Watson, eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

"Never mind," Watson replied, knocking roughly on the door, ignoring Sherlock's intense gaze. No answer was heard and Watson pounded louder.

"Hmm..no one seems to be home," Sherlock mused, reaching into his pocket for a lock pick. He bent down coming face to face with the lock and began tinkering with it.

"What are you doing?" Watson said furiously, instantly turning to whispers at the thought of capture. "You are going to get us in trouble." Sherlock didn't reply, intent on the lock. Watson looked around cautiously, rolling his eyes to heaven before sighing.

Sherlock grinned, "Ah almost..." BAM. The door flew open, slamming into the wall, the lock tearing through the wood. Watson's foot hung in the open doorway. "...done. Watson have I ever told you how impatient you are?"

"On several occasions."

"Well, thanks to you we are more likely to get caught now. Hard to cover up a bloody broken door." He informed Watson smirking.

"You were taking too long," Watson shrugged, finding no fault in his own actions. They entered the room slowly, Watson pulling out his gun.

"Is that really necessary?" Sherlock asked. "No one is here." Watson glared at him, but unlocked the safety anyway. Sherlock strode confidently into the living room, only to gag and reel around at the potent stench of death. The person Watson assumed was the artist lay dead, sprawled across the sofa. Cushions below him were darkened by copious amounts of blood. Describe what he looks like grey hair wrinkles.

"Well, I guess that's a dead end," Watson said after checking the body and determining he had died from blunt force trauma to the head. Suddenly, Sherlock spied a chunk of limestone and seized it from the ground. He studied it for a few moments and was able to establish it as the murder weapon from the splatter of blood on it.

"What is it, Holmes?" asked Watson eagerly.

Sherlock replied gravely, "It's sedimentary, my dear Watson."

"You are hilarious," Watson informed him sarcastically, returning to the body. "Oh, what's this?" Watson questioned, pulling something from the dead man's throat.

"Give me that," Sherlock ordered. Watson handed it over without a word. Sherlock unfolded the clue, careful not to rip the wet parchment. "It...It seems to be a picture?"

"Why do you sound confused?"

"Well, it makes no sense. It's just a picture of the man and his child. Why would the killer shove it down the man's throat? Oh. OH! Of course. The killer didn't. The artist, though, did."

"What? Sherlock you're not making any sense."

"I am making perfect sense. You're just too blind to see it," Sherlock shouted back over his shoulder, running outside.

"Of course I am," Watson muttered, slowly following after, praying Sherlock did not leave on the blasted hot air balloon without him. Watson never thought he'd be so glad to see the damn thing.

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**A/N: **Well this is embarrassing for over two months i have had chapter 2 as chapter three why did no one tell me. Hopefully this has never happened to you. For those who read before now there is a new chapter and I made the crime better...hopefully. So two more chapters before end. Please review! If you do I'll carve Sherlock's name in a sand hill! XD


	4. Chapter 4-Lestrade Becomes Confused and

**Chapter 4- Lestrade becomes confused and maybe you do too.**

As it turned out, Watson didn't have to worry. They didn't leave as soon as he'd expected, and soon the house was swarming with police officers. Sherlock burst back into the house causing everyone one to glance up in shock.

"I know who the killer is!" he smirked, striding back out, expecting the police to follow him.

"Sherlock! Sherlock!" Detective Inspector Lestrade called, running down the hall trying to catch up to the retreating figure of Sherlock. Once he finally did, he fell in step with the consulting detective and his blogger. "How do you know who it is?"

Sherlock groaned. "You people never cease to amaze me with your inability to observe. It was simple really. The photograph in the victim's throat was a message clearly. Otherwise why take the time to put it in his mouth, but not have him swallow it completely? So a message, definitely. Something about that picture was so important that the artist shoved it down his own throat to tell us was important? The contents of the picture, obviously. What was in the picture? The man and his son. The man is young in the photo, so years have passed since it was taken, so his son is now an adult. Where was the picture taken? A mathematics competition. Now it seems all very normal, but consider the facts. If the artist knew he was going to die, then he saw his killer and realized who he was and that he came with the intention of killing him. Knowing he was going to die, he shoved the picture into his mouth to lead the police to his killer. Hence he's pointing us to his son."

"Who was the man's son?"

"The killer, evidently," Sherlock replied.

Lestrade's eyes widened. "How are you sure it was the man's son?"

Sherlock sighed. "Why would the element tree be a clue? Why kill an artist? It is not at all the way this serial killer works. Therefore, the artist knew something. He knew who the serial killer was, seems the obvious conclusion. Think about it: this man lives in the middle of the desert nowhere near where any of the murders have taken place. So how would he know something? The killer is his son, obviously."

"I didn't find that obvious."

"Of course not, you're an idiot. The thing that really gave it away, so I knew who the killer was without having to use the...genius police department, was the murder weapon. That was the killer's first big mistake."

"Mistake?"

"Yes, mistake," he said rolling his eyes. "He used a large piece of limestone. These rocks are easy enough to find in the desert, if you're looking for them. So I headed outside, after seeing the weapon. I scanned the area; the nearest limestone formation to be found was several miles out into the desert where there was no civilization. Who did we see out in the middle of the desert who was good at math?"

"What does math have to do with anything?" Lestrade asked baffled.

"Everything." He groaned.

"Oh. OH!" Watson said, comprehension dawning on his face.

"Finally, you understand."

"I still don't," Lestrade added.

"The child in the image had just won a math competition, and Watson and I had just run into a mathematician in the middle of the desert. Coincidence? Unlikely."

"So you're saying the artist knew him because his son is the serial killer?"

"Of course, didn't I just explain that."

"Is that what you were doing? All that because of a bloody painting." Lestrade grumbled, stalking away, leaving Sherlock grinning victoriously. Watson smiled, pleased he wasn't the last one to figure it out this time.

Then Lestrade froze. "What happened to the bloody door?"

"Uhhh..." Watson's eyes went wide.

"It was the killer," Sherlock said breezily, brushing past making a swift but calm beeline for the hot air balloon.

"Not back onto this damn thing."

"Back onto this damn thing." Sherlock smirked.

"Hey wait! I am not done with you!" Lestrade said once he got over his shock, racing after the already floating hot air balloon.

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**A/N: **Well man that was hard! So if there is any confusion let me know and I will fix it! (To the best of my abilities) Anyway review and I will create a cover for this! (Ideas are good! May be black and white depending on me)


	5. Chapter 5-Sherlock and Watson go Camping

**Chapter 5-Sherlock and Watson Go Camping**

"Ugh why can't we have another serial killer? The last one was too obvious. No originality," Sherlock sighed. "Someone better die soon."

"You know what?" Watson began, sick of Sherlock's whining. "We're going camping!"

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"We're going camping."

Sherlock laughed. "That's hilarious, but I don't think so."

"Were going."

"No."

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"I can't believe we're doing this." Sherlock sulked.

"Oh shut up and set up the tent," Watson said annoyed. For three hours he had heard over one hundred different variations of the same complaint, and he was tired of it. They went fishing, which Sherlock soon grew bored of. Then they went rafting, which was a little better, and then they went biking, which Sherlock was not at all that pleased with. Finally they turned in for the night, and Watson fell into a deep exhausted sleep that comes with having to deal with a bored Sherlock. At about 3AM, Sherlock nudged Watson awake and asked, "Watson, look up into the sky and tell me what you see."

Watson grumbled but complied, "I see millions of stars."

"and what can you deduce from that?"

"Do we have to do this right now?"

"Just answer."

Watson grumbled some more, but sat up and began thinking, "Well astronomically, it tells me there are millions of galaxies and potentially billions of planets so the likelihood of there being more life out there is very high." Pause more thinking, "Uh astrologically, it tells me that Saturn is in Leo and theologically, it tells me that God is great and we are small and insignificant." He glanced about for reassurance and continued. "Horologically, it tells me that it's about 3 AM. Meteorologically, it tells me that we will have a beautiful day tomorrow."

"You've told me what it means astronomically, astrologically, theologically, horologically, and meteorologically, but you missed the most important thing."

"Really, what's that?"

Holmes retorted, "That someone stole our tent, Watson." Watson groaned. He turned to Sherlock,

"Let's never go camping again."

"Agreed."

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**A/N:** So I know this chapter has been done but maybe you like my version better maybe you don't! Review anyway and tell me what you think. If version you like better tell me which and I'll check it out. If you review I'll go camping and steal my neighbors tent. (Just kidding XP)


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